My Place Is Here
by bish dish
Summary: AU: a collection of bhunirai oneshots. Bhunivelze had succeeded in making Hope his vessel and Lightning in turn, became his new Goddess of Death. Stuck in the chaotic realm of Valhalla with no memories of her previous life, Light must continue to carry out the cycle of rebirth while dealing with foreign, mortal emotions concerning her God of Light.
1. Memories Forgotten

The change wasn't something immediate, something she could pinpoint the exact moment to with absolute certainty; in some ways she wasn't even sure if anything had changed at all. It had always been cold and dark in this empty plane, the thick smog of Chaos had always blown fiercely through her soft pink tresses, she had always been here in this realm fulfilling her divine duty…

And she had always felt this nagging need for _something_ deep inside her.

Most days- if she could even differentiate between days within this timeless realm- pass without complication. She rests upon her throne of crystal as she completes the cycle of rebirth, the dark armor of her helmet and pauldrons revealing tints of bronze in the reflected light of the souls finding their way to her, waiting to receive her gift of life reborn. At other times she finds herself wandering the plains of the realm she alone rules, Valhalla. The Chaos roars constantly over the dull rocky terrain, cutting through the shards of crystal embedded into the ground. It is here where she feels that nagging need for _something_. Exactly what that something is, she can never quite tell.

Sometimes she sees shadows in the smog- the long outline of a lance, the silhouette of a large muscled man, a small inky dot of what appears to be some feathered creature- but she tries not to give too much thought to them. After all, she is the only one to roam this land. Surely if there were other inhabitants she would know, she would sense another sign of life? _Yes, surely,_ she often reassures herself. However, there are other more discerning anomalies she can't dismiss quite as easily.

Though she can't see them, they seem to be almost worse than the fleeting shadows. At least with the shadows she can reason them away, claiming them to simply be unusually shaped gusts of Chaos. But these anomalies she can't fight off with reason, can't fight without them having a shape or form.

They're _voices_.

They ride among the ever roaring winds of Chaos, their sound almost drowned out by the deafening wind, but her finely tuned ears can still hear them. They pierce through to her mind and call out to her insistently, begging her to acknowledge them, to come home _please_, and she in turn blocks them out. For she is home, isn't she? She has been in the Chaos for as long as she can remember, taking in expired souls and breathing new life into them. At first she wonders if perhaps the voices are calling out to one of those souls, for the names she hears certainly don't belong to her.

_Grumpy_

_Lightning_

_Sunshine_

_Sis_

_Light_

_**Claire**_

But no, that can't be, for the last name strikes a certain chord within her, hitting her with unexpected pain and sorrow, emotions she had previously thought she was incapable of feeling. Suddenly her throne feels too high and too hard, the air too heavy for her to bear and suffocating. So she flees, her dark silks billowing behind her dashing figure, meshing in with the swirling Chaos as she sprints out into the abyss.

Unburdened by the mortal weakness of fatigue, she runs. Runs as far as her will desires out into the endless plains of Valhalla. She eventually collapses among the rocks and shards of crystal, her body perfectly energized and fine but her mind- her _heart-_ strained from too many burdens. Buried emotions and blurred memories begin to surface and burn the young goddess' mind, tears beginning to form for the first time in over several hundred lifetimes. Unable to stand the sudden onslaught she lowers her face to the cold ground and grasps her head, her fists clutching the dark wings on her helmet, and praying to her god to make it stop, make the voices go away, make the feelings and memories and pain just _stop._

The wind stills roars and the Chaos never stops swirling as the goddess weeps into the ground, her dark silks bunched all around her as she curls up into herself. This is the state in which her god finally comes to her, a blinding hole of light opening within the dark skies of Valhalla, his holy form descending down to his poor pitiful goddess.

She hardly notices his presence as he gathers her silks and gently scoops her up in his muscular arms, too busy was she in trying to silence her wails as he begins the long trek back to her crystal throne. He allows her the peace and quiet as she silently sobs into his bare chest, her tears dripping onto the intricate patterns along his collarbones. Though the winds are now blowing against them, the God of Light moves confidently, unfazed by them, his billowing cloaks and shifting silver hair being the only indicators that there is any wind blowing at all.

After a long silent journey, the outline of the goddess' crystal throne soon begins to form on the horizon, the now quiet bundle in the god's arms having been reduced to mere sniffles. The voices are still there, lingering in the back of the goddess' mind- having paled in the presence of her divine god- but they still hurt, still bring up foreign and unwelcome emotions.

_Just remember me, okay?_

The god gently lowers her back into her throne, rearranging her elegant dress and straightening her dark pauldrons. She finally looks up at her god and stares into his eyes, orbs of a green so clear, so bright, and suddenly so…..familiar. The goddess' own eyes widen in realization for a moment, pieces clicking together and memories becoming clearer, more distinct. Almost as if he could see this discovery in her eyes, he gently grabs her chin and leans closer to her poor distraught face. "But…but Hope it's us! We need-" she stutters, beginning to panic now that she can remember.

"Silence, my goddess," he soothes, placing a finger over her lips, "there is no need to fret. We have all we need right here." The finger is replaced by his own lips against hers in a mind fogging kiss and suddenly, her worries are gone. The voices are no more. Her trauma had never happened at all.

He pulls away and leaves her sitting there upon her throne, her eyes still closed and her face tear-stained but empty and serene once again.

His goddess now soothed, the God of Light reopens the swirling dark skies and ascends back to a higher plane she can only dream of entering.

_But that is alright,_ she thinks. For she is the Goddess of Death and her place is here, in Valhalla. She was meant to continue and watch over the cycle of rebirth, ensuring humanity thrives.

That is, and has forever been, her only role.

* * *

**A/N: **wow, so my first fanfic ever. it was based on this AU where Lightning lost the final battle to Bhunivelze and became his new Goddess of Death. Bhunivelze in turn, completely absorbed Hope so now he's pretty much still Bhunivelze, it's just that he has more of Hope's physical appearance and his kinder personality and feelings towards Light. just in case you were wondering, the Valhalla here isn't the Valhalla seen in XIII-2, it's that place in the ending cinematic of LR where the gang meets Caius and all of the Yeuls before travelling to the new world. y'know. that place. and Light's goddess ensemble is based on what Etro is wearing in the cover image there because I'm in love with that design lol


	2. Knowledge

**A/N:** hello everyone! as you can see, I've decided to continue adding to this story thanks to the favorites, follows, and reviews (thanks to cartoon moomba, denebtenoh, neurofreez, and verelan!) so from here on out, this fic will be a collection of oneshots, not necessarily connected to each other or anything. idk, we'll see how this goes!

originally this oneshot was going to be extremely depressing but somehow as I was writing it all down it just sort of devolved into this lol. still pretty good, just a lot nicer on the heart and your feels.

* * *

It comes to her attention that for all the love and admiration she holds for her god, she knows startlingly little about him. Her knowledge is only skin deep, she dismays, details that any being could immediately notice just by looking at him; his strong build detailed in gold and black touches, his glowing green eyes that can pierce through even the thickest gust of Chaos, and his gentle yet firm voice that can be so commanding yet so soft at once.

And she knows the intimate details as well- the feel of his lean muscles underneath her hands, of those soft strands of silver brushing across her face and neck, of his hands and lips roaming over places meant for him, only and forever just for _him._ Yes, these details are the ones she has committed to memory, ones she likes to mull over during the especially lonely days in Valhalla. But as she rests there on her throne, surrounded by ghostly orbs and shattered crystal fragments, she realizes she craves a _different_ kind of intimate knowledge.

She finds herself yearning for the little things, of personal details, his habits and routines, his likes and dislikes. She knew he liked her- _loved_ her- and she knew he disliked seeing her suffer, but those were both truths relating to _her_, what about truths relating solely to _him?_

What do those green, all-knowing eyes hold; what horrors haunt him in his solitude and dull their brilliance, what joys lift his spirit and make them shine with mirth? What does he do while she toils away as the Goddess of Death, where does he venture when she isn't graced by his presence?

She wonders if he thinks of his goddess as often as she thinks of her god. Does he have a throne of his own, up there in that realm filled with hope and light? Would it be a simple chair, plain and unassuming to show a humbler side of her god, a side lost and hidden eons ago? Or something large and ornate, meticulously carved with lines and swirls matching those on his body and even topped off with a comfy, plush cushion?

Or perhaps his was a crystal throne, much like her own. Did he sit upon it in the same way as she, restless with nothing but his own inner monologue and thoughts to keep him company? She wonders what these thoughts entail; is she the starring role? Or does he often think of times forgotten, of memories from a different life with different surroundings instead of the same black nothing of Valhalla with its eternal solitude and silence?

She has a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that he knows but chooses to hide the knowledge from her; that he knows of another time far back in the distant past she cannot remember, that he knows the reasons behind the shadows and the voices on the wind that like to poke and prod and leave her as a pitiful mess on the ground. But he _loves_ her- any decision he makes is made in her best interest, right? If there is any knowledge he's hiding, she knows he only does so because the knowledge would hurt her, and frankly, she'd rather stay ignorant if that were the case. Hurting her was the last thing the God of Light wanted to do in a world where it is just the two of them, holding each other steady.

After all, a suffering Goddess equals a suffering God.

* * *

It feels like a whole millennium passes before she is finally graced by his wonderful presence again. She had been provided with plenty of time for her to delve deeper into her musings of him, her curiosity (a new found feeling that causes a strange rumbling to stir within her chest, though she can't exactly say she dislikes it) reaching unprecedented heights and spreading a burning sensation from her breast straight down to her fingertips. She finds herself leaning forward on the edge of her throne as the light above pierces through the Chaos and reveals his form gliding down towards her, her curiosity making her feel as if she were about to explode from all the thoughts and questions in her head!

A new feeling- surprise, is it?- blooms as she finds herself actually rising from her throne and sprinting to meet him halfway, this "_surprised"_ feeling reflecting in his widened green eyes as the bundle of flesh and silks collides into his bare chest. Despite being momentarily thrown off by her unusual burst of energy, he quickly wraps his arms around her petite yet strong form, eager to embrace this rare side of his goddess.

"My my, what has gotten into you?" he asks in a pleasant, teasing tone. "Never before have I seen you so..._excited."_

His voiced dipped down into a deep tenor as he held her, the last three syllables vibrating through his chest and into the ear pressed against it, the tone and simply the word- "_excited"_- sending pleasant shivers down her spine. She stays there a moment longer, enjoying the rise and fall of his chest and the warmth and security his arms provide in a realm that knows only coldness and solitude, before finally pulling back, holding him at arm's length.

"I've been wondering," she begins.

"Troubling news," he cuts in, "but it can't be helped when one resides in such a place as Valhalla."

She casts a glare- head lowered and brow raised- and he silences himself with a small smile, willing to play along.

"_I've been wondering_," she begins again, though this time she hesitates. What exactly was she wondering? There had been so many questions flitting through her head a moment ago, between his last visit and now, yet she can't seem to remember a single one. As if to better jog her memory, her gaze shifts from his shining eyes to the space just beyond his shoulder- into the gusts of Chaos, as if those winds held the questions that had been nagging her all this time.

Amid the swirling smog she sees the tiny glint of light reflecting off of a crystal structure- and before she can even process, she hears her own voice echo along the ever-blowing winds, the words bouncing back to her.

"What does your throne look like?"

...Silence.

His grip on her waist shifts as they both process the question. Her god seems confused, probably expecting some deep and profound thought- in fact, she herself is just as confused- but quickly schools her features back into a serious expression and sends another glare his way, as though she had always intended to ask that question, how _dare _he look at her like that, _of course she meant to ask that question._

Her glare flickers for a moment as she realizes that while that probably _wasn't_ her intended first question, she still is genuinely curious about his answer. He, in turn, can't help but find amusement while watching her; between the clashing images her humorous, almost child-like curiosity competing with that of the death glare from the Goddess of Death herself, he just couldn't help but chuckle.

"My throne? Such a treasure you are, my goddess," he says fondly. His hands drop from her waist and he strolls towards her own crystal chair, circling it with one hand constantly touching it's cold surface, tracing every lump and line as he goes. The goddess stays where she is, simply watching her god as he circles the throne a final time before finally sitting upon it, a finger still tracing the solid armrest.

"It is very much like this one right here actually, made from the largest crystal- shining radiantly as a beacon of hope, of light, in a world where there often is none." She feels a kind of warmth blossom in her chest as he speaks, the fact that he- a god she holds far above herself- has a throne equal to hers, the idea that _she_ is equal to _him,_ pleases her.

He continues, explaining the different symbols carved into its surface, how he's able to watch over all of humanity from his lofty crystal perch, how he spends years upon years sitting there wondering about his goddess downstairs- how's she doing and when he can return to her next. It's all the things she had wanted to hear and more, all the words she had wished would roll off his tongue, and she finds herself drawing closer to him the more he speaks. She stops just short of the throne, gazing down at her handsome god with his arms open in invitation. She carefully gathers up her silks and accepts, lowering herself onto his waiting lap and shifting around in an effort to get comfortable.

He helps her settle down as he continues his descriptions, widening his legs a bit to allow her more room, removing her metal helmet and pauldrons so she can better rest against him, wrapping his arms around her smaller form to ensure that she won't fall off. The goddess makes one final shift before she deems herself comfortable, letting her head rest in the space between his shoulder and neck and watching his throat move up and down as he begins to describe the temple in which his throne resides, absorbing every little detail that she can.

"There is one room within my temple..."


	3. Surrender

**A/N:** hey all, here's another installment to my series of bhunirai oneshots. once again, I'd like to thank those who reviewed and/or favorited and/or followed this story, I really appreciate it! anyway, here you go!

* * *

It had been centuries- hundreds and hundreds of centuries- since the day she had sacrificed herself, her very_ humanity_, for the sake of her loved ones. It had been a spectacular battle, everything the God of Light had hoped it would be and then some. The savior had grown strong through his influence, her persistence and determination worthy of holding the title as the new Goddess of Death; a title oh so fitting for a warrior with as much blood on her hands as this rose-haired woman.

He recalled having mixed feelings at the sight of the savior finally falling to her knees; her body exhausted and scarred, her schema reduced to bloody tatters, and her weapon long gone from her now shaking hands. A surprising amount of panic, shock, and desperation flooded through the divine god upon seeing the mighty savior look so utterly broken and defeated with the glowing orb of the new world behind her, but he did his best to repress it.

He remembered wanting nothing more than to rush to her side and cure her wounds- wounds that _he_ had inflicted- and fight by her side to defeat _himself_. It seemed like a natural instinct of his to want to run to the woman and support her in anyway possible- but it was an instinct belonging to his human captive. The weak, pathetic part of him he had only embraced out of pure necessity to meet his needs. And now that human could only watch in pure agony as the savior struggled to stand on her feet again, her arms completely unable to support her body as she ended up crumbling to the floor once more.

His tiny, sorrowful wails were drowned out by the thunderous laughter of the god, who was beyond pleased to view this side of the mighty savior. To know that he had built her up into the most powerful warrior in creation only to tear her right back down just as easily into a raw, shaking wreck sent delightful shivers down his spine.

It seemed she had finally stopped trying to rise again, the effort it took just to lift herself onto her hands and knees costing her too much energy, too much blood loss. She wearily lifted her head as a blinding light engulfed her field of vision, his laughter devolving into screams of agony, _human agony,_ as the god transformed into his final form.

She couldn't handle fighting him for a fifth time, not in her condition. Yet she found herself struggling to stand to meet him yet again.

But when the light and screams died down, she ceased her struggle.

She couldn't handle fighting him for a fifth time, not in _his _condition.

Instead of another giant metal death trap of a form, she was met with a being no taller than herself with skin as smooth as porcelain and silver hair that seemed so soft and…. _fluffy? _Completely unfitting for such a vile and despicable god. Yet completely fitting for a certain man she knew.

The savior was rendered speechless- whether from her injuries and their inability to let her breath or her swirling build up of emotions, she couldn't tell. The being before her couldn't be him, but at the same time _he was._ The same soft face, the same build she had watched him grow into while she was trapped in Valhalla, the same damn green eyes that could always read her so well…

_His eyes._

While still green and still possessing the ability to read directly through to her core- knowing her every emotion and thought as if they were his own- his eyes held an unearthly glow to them, with thick black markings trailing all the way down to the corners of his lips. The exact markings of Bhunivelze himself. He had donned the god's checkered robes, his unclothed chest bearing the god's intricate designs and his arms discolored to the same black as well.

A perfect matrimony between Human and God.

Bhunivelze had finally succeeded in his mission.

Lightning could only watch in shock and horror as the remolded man admired his new form, holding his darkened arms up and examining the flesh. She cringed when those bright eyes traveled from his arm to her face, the love and pity reflected in them feeling like a betrayal to her. _That-that isn't Hope. _It can't be_**. **This wasn't supposed to happen. I've failed him, I've_ failed _dammit!_

He made his way towards her and crouched down to her level, reaching out a hand to cup her chin. The action caused his robes to lightly fall around him, landing in her small puddles of blood, soaking the cloth in sheer _humanity._ Lightning, for all her inner distress and turmoil, had no energy left to turn away. Even her voice seemed to have left, her lungs too battered and still rattling frantically in her rib cage from his relentless attacks earlier to give her thoughts any say.

"Oh, my Light…." he murmured, tracing a particularly large gash across her cheek, "my _goddess._ Look at how far you've fallen, all for the sake of mere, pathetic humans," he said, as though not understanding why she'd go to such lengths for such pitiful creatures. She quickly jerked her face away from his hand, the sudden movement causing her to go light-headed.

_You'd understand why I fought so hard, wouldn't you, Hope? You were the leader of humanity, the one who loved and served with all your heart until you had no more to give. You __know __the strength of humanity, _our _strength, our friends…_

She yearned to plead with the god, to find that glimmer of Hope within him, but only managed a ragged exhale instead. He chuckled and firmly grasped her chin once more.

"Ah, but that's just it. Mere, pathetic humans, right? The beings that _we_ fought so desperately for, remember? My, how long has it been since we began this momentous journey? Five hundred years? A thousand?" he removed his hand then, her head briefly dropping from the sudden lack of support before she quickly recovered. She watched him with uneasy eyes as he rose to his full height and faced his shining new world.

The souls of humanity floated around the planet like a barrier, unable to grace its surface without a divine being to give them new life. Crackling red bolts interrupted the silence and scattered across the planet's surface at random intervals, illuminating the god's features in a crimson flash.

Lightning hated how those familiar features were now fused with _H__im._

_He _should be here with her, gazing at the new world with pride and awe in his humble way, admiring the souls of those being reborn. _He should be among those souls right now…_

"But you see, savior," he began, gazing at the new world with that same pride- no a different kind of pride, with certain smugness, "I too, am still fighting _for _humanity. Such resilient people, they are. No matter how many times they're crushed, no matter how many centuries wither them away, they still stand strong. Really, they're quite extraordinary," he turned back to face her, an excited gleam to his eyes, the same gleam of the excited Academy leader making a new discovery. It was almost comforting to her to see that familiar gleam.

A bittersweet comfort.

"Which is why I'll strike a deal with you," he continued, his tone becoming increasingly excited as he crouched back down to her. "I will _save _humanity, allow their souls to be reborn as is, so long as there is a goddess to monitor the cycle of rebirth. _You_ can be that goddess, Light. _You _can make sure Serah and the others are reborn safe and sound in the new world."

The excitement lighting up his eyes dimmed as he took on a more threatening tone, the face she had come to know and love twisting into something evil and foreign to his features. "If you refuse, then humanity shall be purified and brought under my direct control- your sister, your friends, all of them becoming empty shells of their old selves- without the faintest memory of you."

She began coughing from the sudden gasp of air she had inhaled in horror. He placed a pitying hand on her shoulder, the savior too beat and emotionally spent to try and shrug him off.

"You see, with the condition you're in, I'm afraid your soul can't be reborn with the others. Someone _has_ to take Etro's place and continue the cycle of rebirth. You're the only one who fits the job description. Should you refuse me, then all the souls of humanity will simply sit in the Chaos. They'll be unable to be reborn and eventually over time the Chaos will rot them away until there's nothing left. Why, there wouldn't even be a _humanity left to protect _should you refuse."

Suddenly his tone became pleasant again, her already pounding head becoming even more frenzied trying to decipher this moods swings of his. _J__ust what was Hope and what was Bhunivelze?_

"Either you become the new Goddess of Death or condemn the entire planet to oblivion," he stated simply.

Her eyes traveled back to the souls waiting just beyond the planet.

_l could… still save_ _Serah_._ Save Snow and Sazh… Vanille and Fang…everyone…_

_But what about you, Hope? Is this it? Are you really gone forever, or are you hiding somewhere in there? Can I defeat this form and somehow save you from Bhunivelze's clutches? Or would that risk destroying_ you _along with him? Would that risk dooming all of humanity? Can I even fight you like this?_

No._ I _can't_ refuse. I_ have_ to save Serah, I have to…_

"…I-I'll do it."

The words barely left her lips but the god seemed to have heard them all the same- that, or he had already known she would choose self-sacrifice over dooming her family in an instant.

"_Excellent! _Quite excellent. I'm so glad you made the right decision, my new _goddess. _With your valiant sacrifice, everyone will be able to be reborn with the memories of…" but his voice, that voice that had been her constant companion for the last thirteen days, became smothered and hard to make out as she finally gave in to surrender.

The last thing Lightning Farron remembered was watching the souls of humanity scatter across the newly created planet before a pair of dark arms gently scooped up her broken body and her vision became clouded by the sudden winds of Chaos engulfing them.

And then, light disappeared.

Forever.


End file.
